Wholeness in Part This Christmas

It is my favorite time of year! What I love most about it is the concept of Shalom- that we see glimpses of wholeness in the peace, wonder, and yes – even magic – of Christmas. I wrote about Shalom for MOPS recently, and thought you might enjoy. May you experience moments of wholeness as you worship and wait for Jesus this Advent.

Wholeness, in Parts

I texted a group of mom friends this question: During the crazy holiday season, how do you create peace and wholeness—shalom—for your family? One mom responded that she needed some time to think about it and would get back to me later. Another sent a series of emojis—a wine glass, a champagne bottle, and an umbrella drink. (Yes, sometimes getting through the holidays includes a little spike in one’s eggnog.) Overwhelmingly, though, the thread was initially met with silence. “Silent Night” silence.

I don’t blame them. To be totally transparent with you, I reached out to my mom-squad because I didn’t have a great answer myself. I stared at that empty text thread for a while and thought about my favorite Christmas song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” I love the idea of it; that at the holidays our hearts can be light, our days can be golden. But for many, the Yuletide doesn’t mean our troubles are out of sight. The Christmas circus actually carries conflict closer to home.

And while I’ve never believed shalom means we will be conflict or chaos free—at least on this side of heaven—I do think it means we strive for unity, for reconciliation, for peace, understanding, and love in the midst of pain.

It means we proactively live for beauty in brokenness, as they say. So that brings me back to the question looming on my text thread. How do we actually make room for peace and wholeness in the midst of very real stress, pain, and loss? How do we teach that to our children? At last, the text-silence was shattered as responses began to pour in: One mom wrote that she schedules several “appointments” during the holidays for reflective family readings by the fireplace. “It warms our bodies and souls,” she texted. “It slows down my three little busy-bodies and keeps us together as a family.”

Another said that peace for her family means having financial peace of mind. Each January, she sets aside $25-30 a month for holiday gifts. When December rolls around, she isn’t strapped for cash.

A third mom added, “Routine anchors us. No matter what else is going on during the holidays, we have dinner as a family. These aren’t always peaceful—I mean, I have two toddlers. But it’s something stable, something we count on. Gathering around the table, being together: this is what matters most.”

These ideas reminded me of my own family’s tradition (something I had completely forgotten until this text-versation), so I added it to our thread: “Each night during Advent, we turn off all the lights, light a candle, and read the birth story of Jesus from the Gospel of Luke. Then we whisper these words as a family: ‘The world is in darkness and chaos, but we are waiting for the Light of the world.’ This is our moment to stop and create awe and anticipation in the midst of the crazy.”

We are harried. We are hurried. We are worried. We are grieving losses. Licking emotional wounds. None of our troubles will be miles away just because it’s December. Even so, we can create wholeness, in parts. We teach it to our children when we remind them to fight for justice on behalf of others. We impart peace to our families during those glimpses of stillness by the fireside. We declare the reality of shalom as we celebrate the sacred wonders of the holidays, and as we teach our kids to anticipate the arrival of Emmanuel, God with us, on Christmas morn.

So to you and your own squad – keep sharing ideas. Keep hanging those stars upon the highest bows. Because the holiday routines that you work so hard to achieve, well, they are bigger than tradition. They are northern stars in the darkest night, pointing us all to hope—reminding us to strive for peace and wholeness, now and in the days to come.